Deceit
by Wilusa
Summary: Ben begins his public ministry as a healer, and turns to Libby for help that only she can give. New entry in a series, but should make sense as a standalone.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.

Note: Latest in a series including "Ten Times Trouble," "Awakenings," "Twisting the Truth," "Possibilities," "Prevarication," and "Decision"; should be comprehensible as a standalone. (To learn what's become of Jonesy, read "Awakenings.")

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"My name is Libby Jones." Remembering Samson's advice, Libby spoke loudly and forcefully, getting the attention of all the three hundred or so people crammed into Carnivale's largest tent - the one that normally housed the Ten-In-One. But then she faltered. Tears stung her eyes, and her voice broke as she tried to go on.

She glimpsed Ben's anxious face in the wings; he was leaning forward, poised to rush to her assistance.

_Dammit, I can't let him down!_

She pulled herself together and took a deep breath. "Sorry," she continued. "Y'see, I just realized, I'm such a new bride that I was sayin' them words for the very first time.

"An' not only am I that new a bride...I'm already a widow."

The crowd gave a collective gasp of horror, and she had to close her eyes for a moment as she fought back more tears. But then she went on - gaining confidence as she spoke, surprising herself with her own steadiness.

"My husband, Clayton Jones - 'Jonesy,' folks called him - was the boss o' Carnivale's rousties. He got separated from us back in New Canaan, left behind somehow. Everyone knows what happened there after we left. We've had to accept that Jonesy's dead. An' all our people are grievin' for him - none more'n our healer, Benjamin St. John."

A murmur of sympathy ran through the crowd.

"You've prob'ly heard that Ben's told reporters how he healed Jonesy, when he'd been tarred an' feathered by a bunch o' vigilantes back in Wyoming. They'd followed us 'cross the state line from Nebraska."

More excited whispers, as her audience belatedly made the connection.

"I want to tell you that I was there, an' I can confirm that it was an honest-to-God miracle!"

There were shouts of "Hallelujah!"

After they'd died down, she continued, "Jonesy warn't to blame for the Ferris Wheel collapsin' in Damascus, but men from there was determined to have revenge on someone. They snatched Jonesy an' me out of our tent durin' the night, took us out in the desert, an' made me watch while they put boilin' tar all over him. He was in agony, an' I was damn near out o' my mind!

"They left him to die, in the middle o' nowhere. He was close to death - there warn't nothin' I could do for him. An' as the day went on, I figured the desert sun was gonna kill me too. Not that I cared.

"Then, God be praised, Ben came along in a Carnivale truck an' found us." Her listeners had been hanging on every sentence, reacting with appropriate gasps and moans; now some of them burst into applause.

"But he didn't see how he could use his powers," she continued. "Like you've heard yesterday an' today, he needs a source o' life-force. Out there in the desert, there didn't seem to be none." There were more gasps and murmurs of concern, as the crowd wondered how the miracle man had resolved this dilemma.

"So what he tried to do, first off, was get Jonesy to a hospital. But Jonesy went into convulsions, an' we saw he wasn't gonna make it. Buzzards was circlin' in to feast on his remains. An' then Ben realized what he could do - he could take life-force from the buzzards!" The crowd erupted in cheers.

"He made me get a safe distance away. Then he had to wait till the very last minute, to be sure there were _enough_ buzzards. But finally, he worked his miracle. Dead buzzards everywhere - an' Jonesy was saved!" Above the tumult that followed, she shouted, "The tar an' feathers fell off, the burns all healed in an instant, without leavin' scars. An' his bum knee was healed too, what'd been crippled for years!"

As her listeners clapped one another on the back and jumped up and down in excitement, she kept shouting. "So you see, I can vouch for Ben's powers! An' now that you know all the effort he put into healin' Jonesy, can you believe for a _second_ that he kilt them folks in New Canaan, an' _let Jonesy die with them?_"

"No!" yelled hundreds of voices. "No way!" "Never!"

"All right!" With a flourish worthy of her father, she concluded, "Now I ask you to welcome..._**Benjamin St. John!**_"

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Ben walked onstage, looking somewhat dazed by that introduction.

Before he'd taken a half-dozen steps, Libby saw that the welcome she'd called for was going to be _too_ enthusiastic. _Oh my God, __**no!**_

The crowd surged forward, shrieking. Two dozen carny men, lined up in front of the stage, locked arms to create a barrier. But the screams from the front rows became cries of panic, as the earliest arrivals realized they were in danger of being crushed.

Libby stood frozen. She was dimly aware that a gray-faced Samson was rushing onstage. But before he could say or do anything, Ben strode to center stage and raised his arms.

"Thank you!" he cried out. "But now, stop that shovin'! Everyone stand still!"

To her amazement, everyone did.

"That's good," Ben went on. "There's too many people packed in here, an' we gotta take care that no one gets hurt. I want all o' you to move slow, now. Get back to where you were. I know most o' you had seats, so sit in 'em!"

Incredibly, they obeyed. The flimsy chairs had been knocked over, but they were righted and reoccupied, with no sign of disputes over seating. In less than a minute, the attendees were settled down and gazing raptly at Ben - many with their hands folded in their laps, like exceptionally well-behaved schoolchildren.

Libby found herself thinking, _Maybe they're afraid that if they're naughty, he'll kick 'em out an' let in some o' the thousands that's gathered outside?_

Knowing Ben was still only nineteen, she was amazed by his willingness and ability to take charge of the situation - and equally amazed that the crowd had heeded him. Looking at Samson, she saw that he was less surprised, but no less awed.

Ben put an arm around Libby's shoulders, and said gently, "Thank you, Lib. _Mrs. Jones_." In the moment before she retreated to the wings - to hearty applause from the crowd - she saw tears in her father's eyes, as he looked up at her from the line of carny men providing security.

_What a change from Tipton, where they made Ben do a fake healin', and Daddy pranced around givin' a spiel that was all lies, callin' hisself Lazarus Dubois..._

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When Ben had announced his plans, only two days before, he'd expected to draw crowds on the scale of Tipton. None of the carnies had grasped the full impact of the sensational events of New Canaan. Believe in him or not, Benjamin St. John had become a household name. When Samson sent rousties into the town they'd been playing, to put up posters advertising the healer's "return," radio picked up the story. By the next day, newspapers all across the country were giving it banner headlines.

Ben had remained remarkably composed. But he'd realized that his original idea had to be modified. He'd thought he could perform healings while, outside his tent, the carnival operated in a normal way. With the crowds that now seemed likely, that was out of the question. Instead, for the foreseeable future, each day not involving travel or set-up would be devoted to preparations for a healing session and the session itself, with almost the entire troupe pitching in to help. The only ones who hadn't volunteered were Lila and Sofie. Each evening, Carnivale would revert to being a typical carnival; the publicity value of its association with Ben would assure its success. ("Less'n he kills someone," Lila had said with a smirk, "an' him an' his buddy Samson get sued. Or worse.")

Gazing out at him, Libby could barely recognize the farm boy she'd teased unmercifully little more than a year ago. He'd meant to shave off the shaggy beard he'd grown over the last few weeks, as a disguise. But Samson had convinced him that he'd already made his "innocent youth" point, and from here on, he'd inspire more confidence if he looked mature. So he'd kept the beard; but it, and his hair, were now neatly trimmed. His shirt and trousers were Rollo the Rubber Boy's castoffs: better quality than a roustie's wardrobe, but frayed and worn, as befit a humble worker of miracles.

_Jeez, he's handsome. How come I ain't never noticed it before?_ She remembered the sensation of his arm resting on her shoulders, his being so close that his breath stirred her hair as he spoke to her...

And then she felt a rush of blood to her face. _Stop! I'm "Mrs. Jones," __**proud**__ to be "Mrs. Jones," forever an' ever. An' if I aim to be loyal to Ben, I should get my mind off his breath an' his touch, an' listen to what he's sayin'!_

At the moment, he was telling the crowd, "My friends in the carnival have asked me a lot o' questions. So I know what questions _you_ prob'ly have, an' I'll try to answer the main ones.

"First, I believe my powers come from God. But He ain't never spoke to me direct, an' I don't pretend to understand why He does things.

"My powers ain't an iffy, on-again-off-again thing. In my experience, they always work.

"An' it seems I can heal any illness or injury. But I ain't never tried to restore a missin' limb, an' I _won't_ try that - at least not any time soon, or in a gatherin' like this. I 'spect I could do it, but it would require way more life-force than other kinds o' healin'.

"That's the general stuff." He took a deep breath. "Now, as regards what we're gonna do today...I thank you for bringin' so many plants, critters like rats, an' so on. But I want to repeat what we told you on our posters an' over the radio. I ain't gonna kill unwanted puppies an' kittens! Or pets that's old an' sick. It ain't decent."

_Damn right_, thought Libby. That morning, she'd been on the crew receiving "offerings"; dozens of pets had been abandoned, even after she and others had explained that he wouldn't use them.

A man toward the front of the audience jumped to his feet and yelled, "Why? Ain't curin' a woman o' cancer worth the life of a goddamn puppy?" Someone else called out, "Shut up! If he's able to cure cancer, it's him an' not you gets to make the rules." More voices chimed in, on both sides.

Libby cursed under her breath. She agreed with Ben; but she wouldn't have been able to articulate an answer, and she doubted he could.

He surprised her. "Listen to me!" When he'd gotten everyone's attention, he said calmly, "Ain't nobody _entitled_ to a miraculous healin'. But even animals are entitled to live out their lives an' die in a natural way, 'cept in certain situations. For instance, when we need to kill them for food. Or when they're a threat to us. It's okay to kill mice, rats, an' bats 'cause they're carriers o' disease."

Someone piped up, "Then how do you justify your killin' them buzzards? They eat carrion, don't normally have no contact with humans at all!"

Libby moaned. But Ben had a ready reply. "That was another special case. Jonesy warn't close to death 'cause of illness or accident - someone tried to murder him. He an' his wife were victims of a terrible injustice. I believe that to undo that injustice to humans, it was worth doin' somethin' unjust to birds.

"Besides, by savin' Jonesy, I kept them Damascus men from committin' the sin o' murder. They meant to kill him. That's bad in itself. But they prob'ly hadn't been bad men, before the Ferris Wheel collapse. I hope they'll learn they didn't kill no one - an' be glad, relieved, that they failed."

_Wonderful!_ thought Libby. The crowd obviously agreed with her.

"But..." For a moment, Ben hung his head. "But..." Then he looked up and said steadily, "That's what I believe now. But the truth is, when I done it, I warn't thinkin' o' neither o' them things. All I was thinkin' was that Jonesy an' Libby were good people, folks I knew an' cared about.

"An' I'm, uh, _human_."

Now the applause was thunderous.

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Ben proceeded to explain how the healing session would be conducted. "This mornin', as we saw the offerings come in, I decided I can definitely heal four people. I may be able to do more. But I've promised to heal four, an' they - or their parents - already know who they are."

Libby guessed he was being conservative. He'd mentioned to friends that he had a special feeling about the number four, because that was the number he'd healed in New Canaan - and the number he'd seen Justin Crowe kill.

He introduced Samson ("the manager o' Carnivale") and Ruthie ("the mother of our strongman, an' the kindest an' best-liked member o' the troupe"). "The two o' them's already helped me," he explained - with an especially affectionate look at Ruthie - "in more ways than I can count. Without them, I wouldn't be alive today.

"An' now, they've helped me select who's most in need o' healin'. It warn't easy to select four from more'n a hundred! I'm sorry I can't heal everyone. We got advice from a respected local doctor, Eb Wainwright - wanna stand up an' let folks see you, Doc?"

Wainwright, who'd been seated in the crowd, not only rose but hopped up on his chair and waved.

"Thank you, Doc," Ben continued. "I hope we'll be able to get this kind o' help from doctors everywhere we go.

"All the people I'm gonna heal are local. Their medical problems are well-known, an' Doc Wainwright's confirmed how serious they are. In three cases out o' the four, you'll be able to _see_ they've been healed. There ain't no fakery goin' on here!"

_Not like Tipton_, Libby thought grimly. _Seems he still resents what he was made to do back there._

"First, Bobby Mason." An excited murmur ran through the crowd. "I guess most o' you know about Bobby. He's eight years old, an' he got hurt six months ago when a tree fell on his pa's truck. He's brain-damaged - can't walk, talk, or feed hisself.

"Bobby's pa is gonna bring him up here an' leave him with me. An' then my friends from the carnival are gonna put potted plants an' caged vermin all around us. It'll take a few minutes - be patient!"

Libby - like most of the crowd - couldn't suppress a gasp on seeing the child. His body was wracked by spasms as his father carried him onstage. Ben sat down on the stage, and the man laid Bobby across his lap. Uncomprehending, the boy made pathetic gurgling sounds as his father walked away. From Libby's vantage point, it appeared that Ben needed all his will power to delay performing the healing.

But delay he did, until he and Bobby were surrounded by a miniature forest, complete with unsavory - caged - "wildlife." Then he held the boy's head between his hands, and said, too softly to be heard beyond the stage and wings, "God, I ain't never been much good at prayin'. But I reckon You know that, an' You understand that I'm tryin' my best. I believe it's You that works through me. An' I'm really tryin' to be a better person, so You'll have a clean, pure instrument to work with. So please, continue to guide me, an' let me heal this child now. Okay? Er, I mean, Amen."

Tears sprang to Libby's eyes as she recalled the farce in Tipton, with Stumpy goading the crowd to chant "Jee-sus!" at the top of their lungs.

And then, for the first time, she actually saw - close up - what happened when Ben performed a miracle. Before her eyes, plants withered and died; animals that had been struggling to break out of their cages collapsed and lay still. The crowd gave a mighty chorus of shrieks.

Bobby Mason sat up slowly, and looked around. Confused and frightened, he said, "Wh-what's goin' on? Where the hell am I?"

Only Ben and a handful of carnies in the wings heard his actual words; but as he leapt to his feet, the crowd could see he'd been healed.

The shrieks rose to a new crescendo.

The startled boy let out a series of oaths.

Ben threw his head back and laughed.

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More plants and vermin were brought in, and he went on to heal a five-year-old girl suffering from leukemia; a man who'd been severely crippled in a farm accident; and a woman whose beatings at the hands of her husband (now in prison) had left her partially paralyzed and blind in one eye. Both adults had been chosen over others because they were breadwinners whose families included young children. It turned out that Ben was able to heal two more, picked in advance but not given promises: a man and a woman, afflicted by different forms of cancer.

His first venture into public healing had been a resounding success. Libby found it hard to imagine his having the stamina to repeat it almost every day. Nevertheless, she was suffused with a warm glow as she turned away from the stage, headed for the nearest tent exit.

"Lib! Wait up!"

She stopped and looked back, puzzled. "Ben?"

"Can we talk a sec?"

Ruthie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and left - after they'd held hands for a meaningfully long moment. On her way out, she paused, beaming, to tell Libby, "You were great!"

Libby strolled to join Ben. "It's you who were great," she said softly. "I knew what you could do, but still - seein' you heal so many people just bowled me over."

"Thanks. It still surprises me, too," he admitted. "But every time I use my powers, I get more of a feel for it. By now I can control the reachin' out for life-force, an' I'm sure that if there warn't enough plants an' stuff, I could stop without harmin' humans." With a conspiratorial grin, he continued, "I'm gonna stay in here for a while, let Ruthie an' Samson field questions from the press. I've said enough to them. If they can't talk to me today, they'll leave sooner. An' that'll give us a chance to straighten up an' get the carnival in operation for tonight."

"Good thought."

"An', Libby - I wanted to thank you again for the introduction you gave me. To thank you, an' apologize."

"Apologize?" She gaped at him. "What for?"

"I knew it would be hard on you," he said quietly, with downcast eyes. "It's so soon after Jonesy's death...askin' that o' you woulda been enough, more than enough. But I had you workin' on other things too, all this mornin'. Meetin' people, takin' their plants an' animals."

Looking up at last, he said miserably, "I only found out this afternoon that you an' Dora Mae worked the door together back in Tipton, askin' for donations. I swear, I didn't know half what was goin' on there! All them things I had you doin' this mornin' must o' been painful for you too, with your sister gone. Please believe me, I'm sorry."

Libby was "bowled over" again. Raised in the rough-and-tumble world of the carnival, she wasn't used to anyone's showing this much concern for her feelings.

She needed a minute to collect her thoughts. And blink back tears. Then she said gently, "Thank you, Ben, for thinkin' of it. An' yes, what I did today was painful. I miss Dora Mae, an' Jonesy, every day o' my life.

"But you know what? I needed to start doin' things, to feel like I'm pullin' my weight with the carnival. An' I'm grateful you gave me the chance. I hope you'll let me keep it up. I want to keep doin' all the things I did today. Please!"

His sudden smile made her think of sunlight bursting through the clouds. "Really? That's great! I need all the helpers I can get. 'Specially your introducin' me, to give me a - what's the word, 'testimonial'? You're the only one who can describe the state Jonesy was in before I healed him."

_'Course_, she reflected, _after the press coverage we're gettin', everyone will have heard about it..._

_Is he just tryin' to help me feel useful?_

She decided she didn't care.

"I feel better, too," he confided, "now that I'm doin' somethin'."

She took a closer look at him. "You look bushed, though. Is there any truth to that story we used in Tipton, 'bout healin' takin' a toll on the healer?"

The moment she'd asked the question, she regretted it. Was it too personal?

But Ben said immediately, "No, that was just an excuse Samson made up, so he could get away with stagin' only one phony healin' - usin' one 'plant' - per day. What I did today was a strain on me, but only 'cause it's so hard to refuse the folks I can't heal. The healin' don't weaken me." He grinned. "In fact, I understand now that every time I do it, it weakens Brother Justin! Only a little, an' not for long. But it's gonna cause him some embarrassin' moments, that's for sure."

"Oh, good!" She snickered.

Then she thought of another question she'd been wanting to ask. He seemed to be in a receptive mood, so...

"Ben? I've been wonderin' about somethin'. Stop me if you don't want to answer.

"My daddy's a good man, but he sometimes tells tall tales. He was one o' the carnies what found you an' brung you out o' that cornfield -"

"He was?" Ben interjected. Frowning, he said, "I hate to think about that. But I should find out who all those men were, an' thank 'em personally. I'll thank your daddy next time I see him."

"I'm sure he don't care 'bout bein' thanked. But he said...he said..." She took a deep breath and blurted it out. "He said you an' Justin Crowe both have _blue blood_. Is that one o' his tall tales, or is it really true?"

Watching her face, Ben said quietly, "I guess there ain't no point in tryin' to keep it secret. You can believe your daddy - it's true. Crowe an' me are both...somethin' that ain't exactly normal." He shrugged. "Obviously."

_Blue blood?_

"Thank you for tellin' me. I'm more in awe of you than ever." _Even if you do have somethin' scary in common with Crowe._

Another question, of far more significance for _her_, had been preying on her mind. She hadn't anticipated having a chance to catch Ben alone. But now, suddenly, the opportunity was here, if she could bring herself to seize it...

"B-Ben?" She summoned up all her courage. "While we're talkin', there's somethin' else I've been wonderin' about. Somethin' I really need to ask."

"Yeah?" He shifted nervously. Guessing what it was?

"Yeah." She swallowed hard. "You told me Sofie gave you a good explanation for her lies about New Canaan, but you wouldn't say what it was - only that Jonesy's definitely dead.

"I've turned that over an' over in my mind, an' the only reason I can come up with for your not tellin' me what she said is that somehow, you're tryin' to spare me."

His Adam's apple was bobbing up and down, and he couldn't meet her eyes.

"Ben? I want you to be honest with me. If you tell me now that your reason for keepin' whatever it is to yourself _ain't_ to spare me, I'll accept it, an' never ask again.

"_Can_ you tell me that, Ben? _Truthfully?_"

At last he looked at her, and said wretchedly, "No."

She'd asked for the truth. So why did she feel as if he'd punched her in the gut?

"You _were_ tryin' to spare me," she said slowly. "What was it?" He hesitated, and she forced out the words, "Somethin' 'bout Sofie an' Jonesy?"

"Shit, Libby -"

"Did she claim Jonesy told her he still loved her?"

"No. It warn't nothin' he _said -_" Unfortunately, the emphasis made clear it was worse than that.

"Oh, my God," Libby whispered. "They made love?" Then, more firmly: "Tell me, Ben! I'm strong enough to take it."

"Yeah, I reckon you are." He clasped her hands in his. "I'm sorry, Lib. Maybe I shoulda told you the truth before now. I reckon you're _owed_ the truth.

"Accordin' to Sofie, she was bein' held prisoner in a shed. Jonesy got there an' knocked out one' o' Crowe's goons, an' they tied him up. Jonesy told her he was married to you. But then they made love, for hours."

Libby felt herself swaying. But she steadied herself, and muttered through clenched teeth, "Her fault, I know it. Not his."

"I dunno," Ben said bleakly. "But here's the worst of it. The only reason Jonesy got killed is that they spent so much time makin' love in that shed, a second goon came to see what had happened to the first one."


	2. Chapter 2

Five days later - or rather, on the night of the fifth day, which had been the carnival's first after its set-up in a new town - Libby sat in the Dreifusses' tent, struggling to mend one of her mother's costumes by the light of a less than adequate lamp. Her parents were performing, but she wasn't alone: a rejected "offering," a mongrel pup she'd named Runt, was doing his level best to distract her.

And it seemed she was about to have company. A voice at the tent flap said quietly, "Libby? Are you in there?" With his usual modest - but incorrect - assumption that his voice wouldn't be recognized, the caller added, "It's Ben."

"Ben! C'mon in!" Illogically, her heart skipped a beat.

She'd been seeing him daily, of course; the carnival's days were still given over entirely to his healing sessions. But every crowd had been as large and frenzied as the first, and Ben hadn't had time to exchange more than hellos with her since he'd given her that painful news about Jonesy.

When he stepped inside and she caught her first glimpse of him in the dim light, she jumped to her feet, dropping her mending on the floor. "Oh my God..."

"What?" He looked down at himself in bewilderment.

"N-nothin'." She gave a shaky laugh. "That thing on your shoulder -"

"Um, it's called a kitten. A calico. Ain't she pretty?" He reached up to stroke it as he perched on the edge of a chair.

Settling back into hers, Libby said, "Yeah. But just for a second - you havin' the beard an' all, an' that thing, er, kitten, on your shoulder - I thought I was seein' Jesus. With a lamb. Like he's shown in pictures an' stained-glass windows, y'know?"

Ben stared at her. "Huh." He transferred the kitten to his lap, muttering, "That sort o' gives me the creeps."

"Sorry." She knew her face was scarlet. "Is she an 'offering' you adopted, like Runt?"

"Not this one. Ruthie, Gabe, an' me each took a kitten, an' I aim to find a home for this one with someone else. Not here!" he added quickly, as Runt let out a yip and the frightened feline tried to scramble back up his arm.

They both laughed. Libby picked up her mending, and Ben said, "Hey, you sew? I never thought o' you doin' domestic stuff like that."

She made a face. "Mama's terrible at it, so a few years ago, I got Lila to teach me. I don't enjoy sewin', but it's handy now. A way I can help Mama an' Daddy without, you know, dancin' an' all."

Ben leaned forward and asked seriously, "Are they puttin' any pressure on you? Wantin' you to, uh, dance?"

"No," she assured him. "Since we lost Jonesy, they ain't pressed me at all."

She wondered if that was why he'd come, to make sure she wasn't being harassed.

_He had to know Mama an' Daddy wouldn't be here. He wanted to talk to me alone._

_Will he get up an' leave now?_

She didn't want him to go, and she found herself groping for a way to prolong the conversation.

But it turned out not to be necessary. To her surprise, he said, "I gotta admit somethin'. Findin' a taker for the kitten was my excuse for wanderin' around tonight. I didn't tell Ruthie I was comin' to see you."

She gulped. "You didn't?"

She remembered the crazy idea she'd had a while back. Or maybe it wasn't so crazy? That Ben, shacked up with a woman in her fifties, might turn to _her_ to give him a child...

_He knows how bad I wanted to be pregnant by Jonesy. But I ain't. An' now we're sure Jonesy's dead, so we wouldn't be betrayin' him._

_Could Ben betray Ruthie?_

_Hell, he just said he came here without tellin' her!_

He continued, awkwardly, "You've helped me so much, Lib, I got to wonderin' if I could ask you for another favor. If you could do somethin' for me, that would hafta be our secret for now.

"It'd be awful hard for you, after what happened to Jonesy_, _an' I hate to ask. But I've seen what a strong person you are. An' you're the only one I _can_ ask."

She gave him an encouraging smile. "Sure, go ahead."

"Don't feel you gotta say yes, 'cause I'm the new Management or whatever! It really is a godawful thing to ask o' you. If you can't bring yourself to do it, if you want to belt me for even suggestin' it, feel free."

"Okay, I'll feel free." At the moment, she felt ready to explode - trying not to get her hopes up, trying to deny the embarrassing fact that getting in the sack with him wouldn't be hard for her at all. "Come on, Ben, tell me. What is it you want?"

He looked into her eyes and asked gravely, "Could you bring yourself to get close to Sofie again?"

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When she found her voice - it took a while - she blurted out, " 'Get close to Sofie'? Why the hell would you want me to get close to that bitch?"

_An' just how "close" do you mean? My God...how much do you know?_

"I was afraid you'd get riled," Ben said glumly. "Here's the problem. I got a reason - a serious reason - for wantin' to learn more about what's goin' on with Sofie. I can't try to be friends with her again myself, 'cause she'd know I warn't sincere. I didn't try to hide how much I disapproved o' what she done with Jonesy. Same problem with Ruthie doin' it - Sofie knew I meant to tell her everythin'. An' they never had a close friendship to begin with.

"Sure, Sofie knows you resent Jonesy's havin' got hisself killed rescuin' her. But old friends might be able to get past that. I told her I _didn't_ intend to tell _you_ about the sex in the shed, an' how Jonesy died. So less'n you've mentioned it to her yourself this week, she still thinks you don't know the part that's..."

"Unforgivable?" Libby suggested in a tight voice.

"I s'pose, for you, it is," he conceded. "I ain't askin' you to forgive her. Just to keep her thinkin' you don't know that part o' the story, so she'll believe you could warm up to her, both o' you lonely an' missin' him -"

Libby made a rude sound, and Ben hung his head, looking miserable.

After they'd sat in silence for a few seconds, she said, "You know her an' me _was_ friends once, an' it ended bad?" _How goddamn much do you know?_

"Yeah. You seemed to be real close."

"Why do you think it ended?"

He sighed. "I reckon it had to do with the fire, Lib. Before the fire, you were her best friend, an' she an' Jonesy were stuck on each other, right? He pulled her out o' the fire, saved her life. But she was in a state o' shock an' didn't appreciate it. She wandered off, still in shock, an' when I found her an' brung her back, she latched onto _me_. Shut everyone else out o' her life." With a bemused shake of his head, he added, "An' when I found her that day, I warn't even lookin' for her. I was just about the only carny who _wasn't_ lookin' for her!

"I got concerns about her now, real serious concerns. But I honestly don't think the way she dropped you back then was somethin' to be taken personally. She just started actin' strange toward everyone after the fire."

"Huh."

_My God. He thought I was askin' his opinion 'cause I __**didn't know**__ why she "dropped" me!_

And if he was that ill-informed, he undoubtedly hadn't realized her "friendship" with Sofie had been anything more than that. She felt a little better, knowing he hadn't meant to ask her to resume a sexual relationship with someone she hated.

"These...concerns," she said slowly. "You're askin' me to spy on her, ain't you?"

He gave a reluctant nod. "Yeah, I guess so."

"I ain't sayin' I'll do it, but...why? What sort o' information do you want?"

"What I'm tryin' to find out," he explained, "is whether Sofie has powers. An' if she does, how she uses 'em."

" 'Powers'?" Stunned, she asked, "You mean, like yours?"

"Maybe, maybe not. It'd be helpful if you could even find out whether she has powers like her ma's. If she don't have _them_, it's a safe guess she don't have more.

"She always said it was Appy that read the cards, that saw things. An' I know Samson thinks Sofie's just doin' fake readings now, like most carnival psychics. She read for me twice, an' the readings told me things I needed to know. But Appy was there the first time - an' both times, my own powers coulda been at work.

"So if you could get chummy with her again, that's the sort o' thing you might be able to ask, casual-like. Whether her readings are real."

"Yeah," Libby persisted. "But you're thinkin' she may have more powers. Maybe like yours, maybe not...

"Ben, does that mean they may be like _Crowe's?_"

Eyes locked on hers, he said quietly, "Maybe."

x

x

x

He waited patiently, stroking the now-sleeping kitten, while she thought that over.

At last she said, a bit unsteadily, "I think I may already know somethin' that could be important.

"Ben - I don't want you to get the notion Jonesy was a gossip, who told me everythin' he heard. This was somethin' special. An' he said he hadn't really been told it in confidence - hadn't promised to keep it to himself.

"The very last time we were together, in New Canaan, we made love. I'd been sort o' jealous 'cause he was worried about Sofie. An' he explained that he felt sorry for her.

"Sofie had told him her mother hated her. Hated her so much that Appy had started the fire in their bus herself, on purpose, tryin' to kill _her!_"

Ben's face went white. "God Almighty," he whispered.

After a beat, he said, "It could mean Appy knew Sofie is somethin' dark an' dangerous. But on the other hand, Appy coulda been crazy. Or Sofie coulda imagined it - or even made the whole thing up, to get Jonesy's sympathy."

"That's true. It don't prove nothin'."

"But it makes me all the more sure I need to find out what's goin' on." Gently, he said, "I wouldn't risk askin' you to spy on her, Lib, if you hadn't demanded the truth about New Canaan. If she guesses what you're up to, she'll prob'ly try to hurt you by tellin' you that she an' Jonesy made love."

Libby nodded, getting the point. "An' she won't be _able_ to hurt me, 'cause I already know."

"Wanna think about it a while longer? There's no rush."

"No, I don't need more time. I'm in!"

_How could I not be in? He's askin' me to do somethin' important. It may not be what I was dreamin' of. But he really needs my help...mine!_

"One problem," she pointed out. "How can I walk up to her an' try to start a conversation, after all that's happened?"

Ben grinned. "That's what this little icebreaker is for." He carefully moved the kitten from his lap to hers. "Drop by her tent, say your job right now is findin' homes for the abandoned pets, an' offer her this one."

She grinned back at him. "Perfect. Every witch needs a familiar. It's just too bad the cat ain't black."


	3. Chapter 3

Drifting up from the depths of sleep, Libby felt soft, hairy warmth against her cheek. Smiling, she edged her head closer to her husband's.

_Do I have a husband? _she thought sleepily._ Or is this a lover?_

_Someone named Ben?_

_Or is it...oh my God...__**a woman?**_

She came fully awake with a start.

And the soft, hairy warmth responded with an aggrieved _Meow_.

_Oh, shit._

In light of their past history, she'd decided the time to approach Sofie was _not_ after the carnival had shut down for the night - when thoughts turn to bed, and things that are done _in_ bed. So she'd kept the kitten overnight, over Runt's strenuous objections. She'd told her parents Ben had offered it to her because he'd forgotten she'd taken a dog, and he'd seemed so swamped with things to do that she'd volunteered to find a home for it.

She'd lain awake most of the night - worried about her ability to keep Sofie from sensing her true feelings, yet thrilled by the prospect of helping Ben. Now, as she rolled over to look at her clock, the mere fact that she could see it told her it was time to get moving.

She rose quietly - trying to calm kitten and puppy, since her parents were doubtless still asleep on their side of the flimsy curtain dividing the tent. She dressed presentably enough to head out to the shower stall, knowing she'd be the first user of the day. _I won't let myself think about Clayton makin' love to Mama in the damn shower, I __**won't!**_ She did think about it, of course - she never succeeded in banishing that memory. But an hour later, fortified by a good breakfast and sure Sofie must be up, she collected the calico kitten and set out on her mission.

As she walked toward the fortune teller's tent, she wondered about the "powers" Sofie might - or might not - possess. _Ben may not be sure, but he wouldn't even be thinkin' of it without good reason._

_Damn. Did that bitch use some sort o' "powers" last year, to make me fall for her? I ain't never been attracted to no other woman that way, before or since!_

She was a fair person by nature, and after considering that possibility, she rejected it.

_Nope. Truth is, before Sofie, I'd never really been attracted to __**anyone**__. Sex was work. Most o' the men I'd been with were johns, an' the others were brutes. If anythin', it was prob'ly more likely I'd fall in love with a woman, if she was tender an' gentle with me._

_But after Sofie hurt me, Jonesy showed me what love with a man __**can**__ be like._

And oh, how wonderful it had been to be _married_, to a man who wanted to protect her and provide for her!

_He loved me_, she told herself. _I know he did. Sofie didn't use no "powers" to seduce me, but I'm thinkin' she did bewitch my husband._

_An' she's responsible for him bein' dead, just as much as if she'd shot him._

x

x

x

When she reached the tent, she had to force herself to call out in a friendly way, "Sofie? Are you home?"

"Yes, I'm here -" Sofie pulled back the flap, then almost dropped it as she gave a soft gasp. "Lib! I-I thought I recognized your voice, but I reckoned I must've been wrong. I couldn't believe it was really you."

Libby said, "Yeah, it's been a long time." Then she wanted to kick herself for not having come up with a better line. Displaying the kitten, she continued, "I'm one o' the volunteers findin' homes for the puppies an' kittens folks keep tryin' to use as 'offerings.' We've been givin' some to rubes, o' course. But most of us carnies are takin' one, an' I thought you might like this precious kitty."

_Hell. What will I do if she either grabs the kitten or says no just as fast, an' don't invite me in?_

There was no need to worry. Sofie said, "Oh, thank you! I'll love it!" As she was taking it in her arms, she asked hesitantly, "Will you come in, Libby? Please?"

Libby let herself be persuaded, and five minutes later, they were settled at Sofie's table with bottles of Nehi. The kitten was curled up, contentedly, in Sofie's lap.

"I've been avoiding the other carnies," Sofie said softly, " 'cause I know I'm not wanted here. Everyone blames me for Jonesy's death, and they're right to blame me. I'm ashamed of what I've done." Her eyes teared up. "And Libby, I've hurt you most of all!"

Keeping her real thoughts - and knowledge - to herself, Libby said, "Losin' Jonesy damn near killed me, yeah. But it came as no surprise that he'd risk his life to save someone in danger, 'specially an old friend. I wouldn't o' loved him so much if he _warn't_ that kind o' man.

"An' your bein' in danger was understandable too, 'cause thousands o' people were taken in by Brother Justin. You just happened to have a connection with Carnivale, that he could find out about. Warn't your fault."

Sofie shook her head. "It's not that simple," she said dismally. "I don't feel guilty about having been taken in by him, in the first place. Like you said, thousands fell for his line.

"But I ran into Ben in New Canaan, before the carnival got there. He told me Justin was evil - said he was a Russian using an assumed name, he'd killed Ben's father, and he wanted to kill Ben too. I'd known Ben a lot longer than I had Justin. So when he told me something that specific, I should've believed him, and gotten out of there while I still could."

"Easy to see now, lookin' back," Libby told her. "But when Ben surprised you with a story like that, it must o' sounded like he'd plumb lost his mind."

"Y-yeah. It did." Sofie took a slow, thoughtful swig of her soft drink, then said quietly, "You're being mighty kind to me, Lib. Kinder than I deserve. I never even apologized for the shitty way I treated you before, back when I let Jonesy catch us together."

_No, you didn't. I found out later that you apologized to Jonesy. But not to me._

_An' I ain't never forgotten it._

"I was ashamed then too," Sofie went on, eyes fixed on her bottle as she turned it round and round on the table. "Ashamed, and scared to face you, 'cause when I apologized to Jonesy, his reaction really hurt me."

Libby thought savagely, _Good!_

"What I did to the two of you was cruel," Sofie admitted. "And it wasn't fair. I was totally in the wrong. Jonesy wasn't bound to me in any way - the only person who had a right to object to his screwing your mama was Stumpy.

"And I realized later that if you were attracted to me, it would've been _in your interest_ to tell me what Jonesy was doing. To turn me against him, get a rival out of your way. You went against your interest by not telling me. So I guess you were trying to keep me from being hurt."

_An' __**I**__ guess you still assume the whole world revolves 'round you_, Libby thought bitterly. She had in fact kept silent because she was ashamed for her mother.

Aloud, she said, "I bore a grudge against you for a long time - for humiliatin' me, an' for not apologizin'." She didn't want to arouse suspicion by seeming unbelievably sweet-natured. "But I know you've been through hell. First your mama dyin'. Then your gettin' heat from the men when you tried to work as a roustie. An' finally, your believin' in Brother Justin, only to wind up bein' damn near killed by his goons, an' blamin' yourself for Jonesy's death. I gotta feel some sympathy for you.

"In fact" - and this was true - "I felt bad enough about your mama that I went lookin' for you in our tent the day after the fire, meanin' to tell you I was sorry for your loss. But by the time I got there, you were gone."

"Damn," Sofie muttered. "By then I was sorry for what I'd done to you. If only we'd been able to get together and talk it out!" She looked so wistful that Libby couldn't doubt her sincerity, at least on that point.

"I've never understood what caused the fire," Libby said cautiously. "D'you know how it got started?" _I wonder if she'll tell me the same thing she told Jonesy?_

Sofie thought for a few seconds before answering. Then she said, "Yeah. Mama actually started it! It was an accident, but it happened 'cause we'd been having a quarrel."

"A quarrel?" _And an accident?_ _That's a twist I didn't expect._

Sofie nodded. "You know Mama could make me hear her thoughts in my head, right? Just as if she was talking to me.

"And there's something else you may not know. She could move things with her mind. When she got agitated, she had tantrums that sent knickknacks flying through the bus - out of control.

"That night, after my blowup with you and Jonesy, I decided I was going to leave. For good. I was packing.

"Mama was furious, didn't want me to go. She made the door slam shut. Then, in the course of one of her tantrums, she made an oil lamp fall over! She didn't intend that - she just didn't have any control, when she got so upset. But she'd slammed the door so hard it was stuck, and I wasn't strong enough to get it open."

"Jesus," Libby whispered.

_Could that be the truth behind what Jonesy said happened? Maybe he took what Sofie told him the wrong way. Or maybe she told him just what he said she did - while she was angry an' bitter toward her mama. An' later, she thought it through an' realized Appy hadn't meant to kill her._

_Or maybe she suspects Jonesy told me what she said. An' she __**wants**__ me to think o' one o' them possibilities that would explain it away._

x

x

x

As they continued talking, Libby realized Sofie was starved for human companionship - so much so, that she was willing to gab for hours. At one point, it was easy - seemingly natural - to ask whether the readings she now gave were real.

Sofie hesitated a second too long before saying, "No."

_If that was the truth_, Libby told herself, _she wouldn't o' stopped to think. Her boss, Samson, already believes she's a fake - no need to worry 'bout my tellin' him._

_She had to think about her answer 'cause she woulda liked to read for __**me**__. Or rather_, she corrected herself grimly, _to read me, __**for**__ herself. She can't suggest it, now she's told me she ain't got the power. But she must o' figured that if she told me she could really do it, word might get to people she didn't want knowin'._

_Like Ben._

A few minutes later, she risked bringing up a painful subject. "Sofe? I can understand how Jonesy died savin' you. But there's a question I gotta ask.

"Ben told me that when you joined up with us again, you, uh, lied. Claimed you'd got in one of our trucks leavin' New Canaan, when you'd really caught up with us in a stolen car." Sofie already knew Ben had told her that. "The lyin' made us hope Jonesy could still be alive. Later, Ben said you'd explained everythin', an' Jonesy's really dead. But he didn't tell me why you lied, an' it still bugs me."

_Let's see what answer she'll give me about __**this**__._

She deliberately hadn't let on that she realized there was also a significant block of time to be accounted for.

Sofie moaned. "Oh God, Lib, I'm sorry! It was such a stupid lie...

"After Jonesy was killed, I managed to escape in Varlyn Stroud's car. I caught up with the carnival while it was stopped in the road for repairs.

"I didn't know what had happened in New Canaan - whether Justin had killed Ben, or the other way around, or they were both still alive, or maybe, even, both dead. All I knew for sure was that _Jonesy_ was dead. And the carnies were sure to blame me for that, 'cause I _was_ to blame." She was weeping now, and paused for a minute, apparently struggling to get her emotions under control. Then she looked up at Libby and said miserably, "Don't you see? I was afraid that if I admitted I had a way of getting somewhere on my own, they'd refuse to take me in. And I'd be stuck with a car that might already have been reported stolen!"

"Shit," Libby said softly. "So _that's_ all it was? Makes perfect sense. I can imagine how scared you were. I woulda been, too."

_Yep, it does make sense. If Ben hadn't told me what she told __**him**__, I woulda swallowed it. Hook, line, an' sinker._

She glanced at a nearby clock. "Yikes! I gotta go. I lost track o' the time - I should already be out there takin' folks' 'offerings.' "

Sofie sniffled. "Oh, damn. I'm sorry I kept you so long. But...you do understand, Lib? You forgive me?"

" 'Course I do," Libby assured her. "I forgive you for humiliatin' me last year. It sounds like you didn't do nothin' in New Canaan that _needs_ forgivin'."

_But I know better._

"S-so we are still friends? Hucky-duck?"

"Hucky-duck," Libby said, with the most insincere smile of her life.

"C'mon over tonight, after the carnival shuts down? So we can talk some more?"

_Damn, you __**are**__ lonely_, Libby thought.

Aloud, she said, "I'd love to. An' I'll bring us somethin' stronger to drink than Nehi!"


	4. Chapter 4

Twelve hours later, Libby once again felt soft, hairy warmth against her cheek.

But this time she was wide awake. Flat on her back, nude. And the hair falling into her face undoubtedly belonged to a lover.

From the moment she'd agreed to come back to Sofie's tent at night, she'd known they'd end up this way. She wouldn't be able to resist. Because she'd been without Jonesy too long. She craved the sensation of gentle hands, lips, and tongue caressing her, exploring the mysteries of her body, bringing her slumbering passion back to life.

She craved something more than hands, lips, or tongue. But if the only alternative was the rough in-and-out sex of whoring, what Sofie could give her would have to do.

_An' I'll only let it happen this once. I'm sorry, Ben! But I can't keep up no phony "friendship" with this bitch. Can't be with her at all without doin' __**this**__, an' I refuse to make a habit of it._

She tried to banish those thoughts from her mind, and take full advantage of these minutes in which Sofie was pleasuring _her_, keeping her own boobs and private parts to herself. Minutes in which she could fantasize, imagine herself back in Jonesy's embrace. Sofie's touch might be gentle, but her actual hands had been roughened by the hard physical work she'd done in recent months. They could so easily be a man's hands, be...

_Damn! I want to imagine they're Jonesy's hands. So why do I keep thinkin' o' Ben?_

She had no doubts as to which man she'd choose, if she had a choice. Clayton Jones was the love of her life. But he was dead, and she didn't want to forget him this quickly, and why oh why did she keep fantasizing about a guy who preferred someone old enough to be his grandma?

She knew she'd have to take a turn at fondling Sofie's breasts. And other parts of her.

_Who will she be pretendin' __**I**__ am? Jonesy? Ben?_

_God, this is sick._

_No. Relax. Enjoy it while I can! 'Cause tonight's all there's gonna be. An' then, no more hands or lips or tongues. Ever._

Her eyes were open as her own lips parted to permit a deep, soul-stirring kiss. But the face she saw above her wasn't Sofie's.

Nor was it the face of Clayton Jones.

x

x

x

When Sofie showed signs of wanting to roll over, Libby willingly complied.

_Oh yeah, bitch. I'll get on top, kiss your tits, diddle with the parts where the sun don't shine. For a few minutes._

_I want you to enjoy this too. 'Cause I hope you'll be lookin' forward to doin' it again an' again._

_An' then you'll find out why I'm really here._

She got on top. And discovered that while she wasn't aroused by the sex acts she was performing, being on top was stimulating in itself.

_With her pinned under me, it would be so easy to do more than I planned..._

No, maybe it wouldn't. Not if Sofie had powers. And what would Ben think? He'd be furious.

So she settled for carrying out her plan, the plan she'd come up with as an excuse to justify returning to Sofie's tent. _I'll at least find out one more thing for you, Ben. One way or the other._

She reached under the pillow, found the razor she'd covertly slipped under it while she was undressing. Then she grabbed Sofie's left hand and quickly drew the blade across her palm.

Sofie's blood was red.

_Damn!_ She'd hoped that she'd be exposing something Sofie wanted to keep secret.

The action had been so sudden that it took Sofie several seconds to realize what had happened to her. Then she let out a screech, and began trying frantically to roll out from under her attacker.

Libby let her up, and rose herself, still brandishing the bloody razor. Calmly, she told Sofie, "I wish I could say, 'This is what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you love.' But you don't love me. I don't think you've ever loved no one.

"What I _can_ say is, 'This is what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you thought was so desperate for a lay that she wouldn't see you for the repulsive slut you are.' "

Sofie backed away from her, with another wordless shriek. But then, as she began to recover from her shock, she looked at her bleeding hand and mumbled, "My God. I saw this in a vision, way back last year. So much has happened since then that I forgot..." She looked up at Libby. Wild-eyed, she demanded, "Why the hell did you cut me?"

Libby gave a malicious smile. "I came here on purpose to cut you. My daddy saw Justin Crowe's body in that cornfield, an' told me he had blue blood." _Not havin' a friend in the place, she ain't likely to hear Ben's got it too._ "Crowe's some kind o' demon. I figure you're a _witch_ as well as a _bitch_, an' I wanted to know if you're a big-league enough witch to have blood like his. But I reckon you're just a li'l penny-ante witch!"

Sofie screamed again, this time in fury.

Libby was still smiling as she wiped the razor clean on Sofie's sheets and quickly pulled her dress on, stowing the razor in a pocket.

A white-faced Sofie strode to place herself between Libby and the tent flap. "I'm not any kind of witch. What I am is someone who was dumb enough to feel sorry for you and want to spare you. No more!" Eyes blazing, she proclaimed, "Here's the truth about your precious husband. It was me he loved. And in New Canaan, he proved it. He made passionate love to me for hours. Insisted on doing it then, in spite of the danger, 'cause he'd missed me so much he couldn't wait!"

Libby laughed in her face. "Sure he did. Was that before or after Crowe made you an archbishop?"

_No way am I tellin' her I already knew. If I hadn't known, I'd be goin' to pieces - it wouldn't occur to me to doubt her. But bein' prepared, I can be cool as a cucumber, just pretend I don't believe her. Ain't no way she can prove it._

But Sofie wasn't rattled. "Laugh now," she said quietly. "You won't be doing it again any time soon.

" 'Cause, you see, I may not have thought I loved you - but I cared enough about you that I've been upset, for weeks, about a situation I'm in. Yesterday, I made up my mind that I'd find a way to _end_ the 'situation.' For your sake, so you wouldn't be hurt.

"Now? The hell with you. You'll see the proof Jonesy and I made love in New Canaan..._when I give birth to his baby!_"

x

x

x

And then it was Libby who screamed.


	5. Chapter 5

"Damn, damn, _damn_." Ben slammed his fist into the wall of Ruthie's trailer. The inconsolable Libby had just left. Ruthie had hustled Gabriel out some time before; he'd taken the family's three kittens with him, deciding on his own that Libby's outburst was not for their tender ears.

"She's half out o' her mind over this," Ben raged, "an' it's all my fault! It never occurred to me Sofie might have some other way o' hurtin' her, besides tellin' her 'bout the sex." He flopped on the bed, tearing at his hair in frustration. "Preggers with Jonesy's kid. My God!"

"I don't approve o' your part in this," Ruthie said stiffly. "But I gather you didn't actually tell Lib to slice Sofie's hand with a razor."

"N-no. But I got this fear in my mind..." He hesitated, then said, "Truth is, I was wonderin' 'bout the blood. An' I ain't sure I understand all my powers. I'm afraid I really might o' willed Libby to do it, _caused_ her to do it."

Shocked, Ruthie muttered an oath.

He couldn't look at her.

"So...does Sofie's not havin' blue blood prove she ain't an Avatar?" she demanded. "Your blood warn't always blue, was it?"

"No, it warn't blue till I killed Management an' became a Prophet." Sighing, he explained, "I wondered for a while if there might be separate women's Houses, that us men never knew about. If Sofie might o' become Prophet on Appy's death.

"Now I know that ain't so. She'd have blue blood. An' if she's an Avatar in one o' the Houses I know of, she ain't Light, or she'd be my Prince - uh, Princess -"

"How could that be?" Ruthie asked. "She's a couple years older'n you."

"Older, yeah. But she could still be an extra generation removed from the first pair o' Avatars. It'd be like them parents that keep havin' kids, an' wind up with some younger than their grandchildren. A niece can be older than her uncle. Anyway, I've accepted the idea of a woman bein' an Avatar, so if Sofie was my Princess, I'd sense it. She ain't.

"That means she must be a Dark Avatar. An' Justin pretty much has to be her pa, but they may not know it. She woulda become Prophet when I killed him, so I'd expect her to have blue blood. But someone, prob'ly Sofie herself, brung him back to life. God knows how _that_ changes things.

"Could be," he continued thoughtfully, talking more to himself than to Ruthie, "that a new Prophet's blood don't change till the former Prophet's body ascends or descends. That only one of a House can be on this Earth with blue blood in their veins.

"Justin came back to life, an' Sofie never got the blue blood. But even so, an' even if he's still a Prophet, she might be one too - stronger, more powerful, than an Avatar who ain't a Prophet."

Ruthie reminded him she was there by asking, "Couldn't the red blood mean she ain't an Avatar at all?"

"I wish it did," he said wearily. "But I keep pickin' up some kind o'..._energy_ from your mirror, where Lodz wrote 'Sofie is the Omega.' By now I'm sure that's important.

"She did let slip that she has visions o' the future." Agitated as she was, Libby had given him a full report. "She'd 'seen' her hand cut. An' that was a good thought Lib had, 'bout her takin' too long to say the readings she does ain't real. She has at least the powers Appy had. An' she feels a need to hide 'em!"

They sat for a few minutes in morose silence. Then Ruthie suggested, "Any chance this kid ain't Jonesy's? She's gotta be pregnant by someone, or she wouldn't o' gone out on a limb by tellin' Libby. But could it be Crowe or one o' his henchmen? A rape, maybe?"

Ben shook his head. "I don't think so. If she knew she was pregnant from a rape, she prob'ly woulda found a way to abort it before now.

"An' her story 'bout havin' sex with Jonesy rings true." That was the point that carried the most weight with him. "It accounts for the time that passed between his goin' to save her, an' her catchin' up with us. An' her sayin' she knew he was married made _her_ look bad. If she was willin' to tell another lie, it woulda been easy to claim he'd never told her 'bout the marriage.

"So if she had sex with him, an' she's pregnant now, why doubt he's the father? I just never thought o' the possibility. If I'd let well enough alone, she woulda had an abortion an' Libby never woulda known!" He buried his face in his hands.

"She coulda been lyin' 'bout the abortion plan, just to make Libby feel worse. Or you, if she suspected Libby was workin' for you." There was a decided chill in Ruthie's voice. "I still can't believe what you did, Ben! You knew Sofie might be a Dark Avatar, meanin' she could be the one killed seventeen thousand people - an' you asked a young girl to spy on her? What in blazes were you thinkin' of? Did you want Libby to wind up as dead as her husband?"

"I'm sorry," he moaned. "I figured that if Sofie wanted to do anythin' bad to her, she'd want to hurt her, an' enjoy seein' her suffer. An' I thought the only ammunition she had was the story that in fact, Lib already knew. Shows how bright _I_ am.

"But I didn't tell you what I was doin'," he acknowledged with a sigh. "First time since we got together that I've gone behind your back, deceived you. I guess that means that deep down, I was ashamed. I knew it was wrong."

Ruthie said quietly, "Shit. There ain't no rule sayin' you gotta tell me everythin' you do! But..."

The pause was so long that Ben turned to stare at her, puzzled.

At last, without meeting his eyes, she continued, "If we're bein' honest...I've been deceivin' you lately, too. Keepin' somethin' from you, that you got a right to know."

The first thought that came into his head was _Oh my God, she's in love with someone else._

Thirty-four years his senior, Ruthie _could_ plausibly have been his grandmother. But he saw her as the most beautiful, desirable woman with Carnivale. During the months when he'd spurned her - in a misguided attempt to protect her - she'd lost interest in her appearance, lost weight, and begun to look old. But since they'd become a couple, she'd blossomed.

_She could have any man she wants_, he told himself_. An' I still ain't the one she deserves._

Bracing himself for bad news, he said, "You can tell me anythin', Ruthie. It's okay. I'll understand."

She made a face. "Well, at least I ain't put anyone's life in danger! But I didn't tell you 'bout somethin' Samson's been doin', that I know you won't approve of."

_Somethin' Samson's been doin'?_ _**That's**__ all it is?_

He realized she was staring at him, and wiped what he knew was a stupid grin off his face. "Uh, Samson. Has he been makin' money off my healin', somehow?"

"No, no," she assured him. "Nothin' like that. But he didn't tell you the truth about the reason he wanted you to keep your beard."

"My beard?" Now he was hopelessly confused. "What the hell does my beard have to do with anythin'?"

"He said he thought it was a good idea for you to look mature, right? But he really thinks the beard makes you look sort o' Biblical. Or rather, the way art has made people _think_ them folks in the Bible looked."

"Oh, shit." He suddenly remembered what Libby had said, after catching her first glimpse of him with the kitten on his shoulder. "He wants the rubes to think I look like Jesus?"

But Ruthie was shaking her head. "No, not Jesus. He just wants your looks to suggest someone from that time period. He's started a rumor..."

_"What?"_

She sighed. "He gave you the name Benjamin St. John, right? There's a legend that Saint John - the Apostle, the one s'posed to have wrote the Gospel - never died. That Jesus promised he'd live till the Second Coming. So Samson's planted the idea that while you can't admit it, you really are this two-thousand-year-old Apostle."

Ben let out a string of very un-Apostolic oaths.

When he'd wound down, Ruthie said quietly, "I think it's a good idea, Ben. That's why I ain't told you till now.

"If the press pokes into your background, they ain't gonna find a believable past for Benjamin St. John, right? An' you can't afford to let 'em learn who you really are - a fugitive wanted for murder.

"With this scheme o' Samson's, some folks will think you got a murky past 'cause you really are Saint John. An' the ones too smart to believe that will think your background's been covered up for the sake o' the Saint John hoax. A harmless, non-criminal explanation."

He did some more swearing.

But at last he said, "Dammit, I know you're right. I ain't never gonna claim I _am_ this saint, though!"

"No one's askin' you to."

They lapsed into companionable silence.

As one, they heaved weary sighs.

He reached for her hand and clung to it, as night descended on Carnivale.

x

x

x

Sofie was still nude as she stood in the pitch darkness outside her tent, alternately stroking the kitten snuggled in the crook of one arm, and her own belly.

She really had been feeling lonely and vulnerable. And she really had regretted the grief she'd caused Libby in the past. (Though she still would have murdered Jonesy, if she had it to do over. He was in her way.)

She'd been furious, outraged, when Libby turned on her. But all that really mattered was that _she had won_. She'd left the other woman crushed, devastated.

The kitten purred, and Sofie, smiling, mimicked a purr in response.

Yes, triumph was sweet. So sweet that she couldn't wish the events of that night to have played out in any other way.

_So I guess I __**am**__ going to have this baby_, she reflected_. Maybe it was fate._

She hadn't made a decision on seeking an abortion, but she'd been considering it. She'd never wanted to be a mother. And she was apprehensive about the sort of offspring who'd be born to two supernaturally gifted parents.

For the child in her womb was, of course, Ben's.

She hadn't known she was pregnant when she returned to Carnivale. Three weeks later, when she did know, she skillfully misled Ben. She assured him that her period had started two days after they made love, so she'd never had a moment's concern about it. Then, much later in the conversation, she lied about having had sex with Jonesy. Made Ben, as he thought, pull the admission out of her! Solely to lay the basis for a claim, if she did decide to go through with the pregnancy, that Jonesy was the father.

Her master stroke, as she saw it, was another "admission": that she'd known Jonesy was married when they made love. How could Ben suspect her of making up a story that included a detail - which she could easily have kept to herself - that reflected so badly on _her?_

She thought now that on some level, she'd always meant to have the baby. She might be uneasy, but she was also tingling with anticipation.

_I just have to hope for a full-term pregnancy...and then, a small enough newborn that I can pretend it's premature._

_After it's born, will there be more changes in me?_

By now she'd realized that if Justin was something called a "Prophet," and she was destined to become one upon his death, it should have happened while he _was_ dead - however briefly.

_Is blue blood a mark of Prophets? Does Ben have it?_

_Is mine still red - for now - only because I was already pregnant when Ben killed Justin, and a change in my blood would have harmed the child inside me?_

_I can afford to wait a few months to find out._

The kitten nuzzled against, of all things, her breast, and she gave it a reproving tap on the nose. As she drifted back into the tent, she was crooning softly to two "babies": the one pulling her hair, and the one who had yet to stir even in her womb.

x

x

x

Ben woke at first light, to the sound of urgent knocking on the door. Ruthie rolled over, murmuring, "Mmm?"

"I'll get it," he told her. "It's still early. You go back to sleep."

He padded over to the door, opened it - and gasped. Libby had looked bad the night before, but the ashen-faced apparition he saw now was barely recognizable. Instinctively putting an arm around her for support, he said rather than asked, "Somethin' else has happened."

She nodded, choking out a barely audible "Yeah." Then she pulled herself together and mustered a bitter smile. "I got more information for you! On that matter o' how Sofie uses her powers.

"My puppy was in our tent all night, not three feet from me. An' I warn't sleepin' much, after all that happened. I'm sure no one coulda come in without wakin' me.

"But this mornin'..." She swallowed hard, and forced herself to go on. "This mornin', the puppy was dead. Daddy says his neck got broke."

x

x

x

The End


End file.
